


a river so sweet it's champaign

by Minty_Moon



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Fluff, Kidnapping, M/M, PTSD Sherlock, Self-Harm, Tags Are Hard
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-06
Updated: 2019-06-08
Packaged: 2020-04-06 09:35:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,930
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19059991
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Minty_Moon/pseuds/Minty_Moon
Summary: Sherlock fell in three ways. He fell off the building  into the hands of his brother who saved him from dying in the fall. And he fell into the hands of people who abused him. But he also fell into PTSD and drugs.-------------------------------------------------------------------------------John also fell. He fell into love, he fell out of love. Now someone has fallen on his door step: Sherlock Holmes.  And he'd be damned if Sherlock fell out of him life again.





	1. Hellish Night

A man with hard, callused hands held Sherlock's chin in one hand, piercing him with his nails. "Well aren't you a pretty little thing, huh?" The man rasped out, revealing rotten yellow teeth and a stinking breath. As the man drew closer Sherlock instinctively looked away. The man scowled, "The boss will be pleased about this one. Put him in the car with the other one. A-101." Two other men picked up his arms and started dragging him over to a large black van. They tossed him in the back and his body hit the hard flooring of the car. 

He drew himself up and saw a young man about his age: 28, Gay, Had a rough life based on a stab wound scar on his stomach. He had short dark brown hair and green eyes and held his form in a way you wouldn't see in a man about to be kidnapped. A slightly older man: 32/33, Possible past military affiliations, buzzcut blonde hair and holds his form in acute alert, and another young man: 33/34, Carpenter from the splinters on his hands. Dark brown hair down to his jawline and very thin and pale. _Obviously "boss" has a type._ Sherlock thought. 

For some reason he felt a twinge of embarrassment from the fact he was wearing nothing but pants but he quickly ignored the thought.

"Have fun." One of them men who threw him in the car yelled then slammed the back shut. There was a moment of silence then the car started and was driving down whatever road they were on. _No restraints._ "I didn't see you put up a fight there, curly." The young man smirked. Sherlock rolled his eyes and turned away. "What?" He chuckled. "Cat got your tongue?" The man then sounded a little _merow_. "Shut up Jayden!" The older man barked. He didn't hear anything else then and turned back around. The young man, Jayden, saw this and smirked, raising an eyebrow. 

Sherlock put his hands together, crossed his legs, and entered his mind palace. He decided that he would create a new floor for his "vacation adventures". After god knows how long he had gotten the layout of the place. It was a large room with wooden floors, on the walls were doors that went to different sections of his "adventures." He labeled the door closest to him 1 and in a little box on the shelf he filed the different people he'd met so far; Jayden, the older man, and the carpenter. 

He jumped and opened his eyes at the feeling of someone lightly touching his shoulder. "Sorry!" Jayden whispered. "Did I wake you?" Sherlock shook his head. "Good. I'm Jayden but I think buzzcut over there already ruined my chance at a good introduction. Buzzcut's name is Christian and the other guy is Xavier. Anyways, can you speak?" "I can speak perfectly fine, thank you."

Jayden chuckled. "Right then, what's your name?" Sherlock sighed, there was no way of getting out of a conversation now. "Sherlock. Sherlock Holmes." Jayden nodded. Jayden continued to speak about how he got here, his life before, etc etc. It was quite a boring conversation. "What about you? What do you- er what did you do?" Sherlock thought about it for a moment. _I can't just say I'm a detective. Ah yes, an author!_

"I'm a-" Sherlock was cut off from a yell in the front. "Shut it back there!" With that Jayden moved back to his previous spot and Sherlock reverted back to his mind palace for the time being. 

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

Several hours had passed since Sherlock first stepped foot or well was _thrown_ in the car. He snapped his eyes open to see darkness. The others were awake now and Jayden's calm posture had changed to one of fear. 

A man opened the trunk and said something in a language Sherlock couldn't understand. Four other men came over and grabbed each of them. Sherlock knew there was no reason to resist, after all he was in the middle of nowhere and he needed to infiltrate Moriarty's crime web. 

Christan suddenly leaped upward landing a punch square on the man’s nose. The man yelled and a few other men threw Christan to the ground, beating him to a pulp. After a few moments the first man ordered them to stop. "The boss will want him in decent condition." He said with a thick accent. 

Sherlock was pulled from the car and a sack was put over his head. The sack smelled and it choked him momentarily before he was able to take a breath. His bare feet walked along a dusty path with his arms held firmly behind him. Soon his feet touched cold concrete and more talking overwhelmed him. Voices speaking English and the language he couldn't recognise. 

He walked down stairs, turned around corners, and walked long hallways before a metal door scraped against the floor and then he was chained. The sack was ripped from his head with such force it hurt. 

Now with sight Sherlock quickly took note of everything. The man in front of him was older, about 45 and was muscular. There was another man at the door that wore a vest and held a gun. He was slightly rotund and he wore an eyepatch. The chains hung from the right wall to the left. 

The man smirked and when reached the he made a hand gesture to the man at the door. The metal door scraped with an unpleasant screech and then Sherlock was left alone in the dark, hands already feeling slightly numb from the chains. Sherlock did the only thing he could do:sleep.

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

Sherlock awoke with a gasp from cold water splashed on his head. He blinked violently to get the water out of his eyes. "Good morning." The same man from yesterday growled. He turned from Sherlock and looked at the door, obscuring Sherlock's view of whoever was at the door. 

A young man entered carrying a bucket with a sort of poker in his other hand. He left it on the floor and looked up at the man for instructions. "Keep him still." He ordered. Sherlock felt his stomach drop and his heart speed up when he realized what they were going to do. _They're going to brand me._

The young man held Sherlock's shoulders and the man brought the bucket to sit by his side on the floor. The man pulled a bit of Sherlock's pants down around his hip and grabbed the poker. "No no no no! NO!" Sherlock screamed. Sherlock desperately thrashed so that he couldn't touch him. The grip on him tensed and held him somewhat still. The man put the poker on Sherlock's skin and Sherlock screamed. He left the poker on there for what seemed like an eternity. Finally the branding stopped the the grip loosened. The two men left and the pain suddenly hit him worse then the burning. 

Sherlock groaned at the pain and felt dizzy. Oh how he wished he could just pass out but the pain kept torturing him. He looked over at the burn on his hip. Only the top half was visible due to his pants which caused more pain from the touch. From what he saw it was two lines curved with a line in the middle. It was red and inflamed. He groaned in pain and his wrists hurt from trashing. 

At some point he must have fallen asleep because he woke up to someone punching him in the stomach. It was too dark to see who it was but someone with dank breath spoke into his face. "Oh sorry, were you sleeping?" The beating continued for a while longer before the man finally left.

A trickle of blood fell down Sherlock's chest and dripped into his burn and he hissed with pain. His body, burn, and wrists hurt. And he groaned in pain. He would slip off for moments and then snap back. A one point he fell asleep again and woke to someone beating him. The night was a mess of endless pain and torture.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! So this chapter has been edited now and I hope you all enjoyed! Chapter 2 will be coming soon. Thank You! ~Minty


	2. i lived to let you shine

_"That's what people do, don't they? Leave a note?" Sherlock's voice crackled through the phone. John shook his head in disbelief, he couldn't believe what Sherlock was saying. "L-Leave a note when?" John hoped that Sherlock would start laughing at his gullibility but he just stood there, his breathing slightly broken up with a sobs over the phone. "Goodbye John." "No d-don't." Sherlock stood on the edge of Bart’s, making the moments that passed seem like an eternity. Sherlock dropped the phone and the phone call ended. "SHERLOCK!" John screamed at him. The world seemed to slow as Sherlock spread his arms and fell, down down down till he hit the ground._

John shot up from where he was sleeping. A cold sweat sprinkled his brow and he felt tears on his cheeks. He covered his eyes with his hands to try and stop the tears but they still came in a steady flow. He reached over to his phone: Mary texted. _Thank God._ John needed a distraction. 

**Mary: Hi are you still awake?**

**John: I am now**

**Mary: Sorry if I woke you, do you want to get a bite to eat?**

**John: Sure**

John quickly dressed and combed his hair so that it looked as if he didn't just wake from another nightmare about Sherlock. He read the text again to make sure he knew what place they were going to eat. John also saw that the time was 9:30. _Dammit. Just when I was trying to fix my sleep schedule_ John practically flew out of the apartment, the longer he lingered in there the more he remembered Sherlock. 

It was cold outside and he could see his breath. With his hand outstretched he shivered in the cold late fall wind. _Cold just like the first day I met Sherlock-no._ John whisked the thought away, he can't keep thinking of him. Instead he focused on Mary. He had met her about a year ago at the park. John had been sitting on a park bench he and Sherlock often visited because Sherlock always seemed to become less restless outside and over time, it had become quite the habit for John to take a stroll in the park. Mary had been walking with her fur coat buttoned to the top. She struck out as classy and John avoided eye contact to avoid the conversations classy people tended to bring up to people they saw on the street. But he remembered Mary kindly asking directions to the shop and then one thing led to another and they started seeing each other.

After what seemed to be an eternity, his cab finally arrived. It was cozy and warm in the cab and John mindlessly told the driver to take him to the restaurant.

At first Mary had been a distraction from Sherlock. His whole life had been Sherlock: If Sherlock was out and about he was out and about, If Sherlock was hungry he made a small dinner of hearty things for Sherlock's weight, If Sherlock was home he slept. Now Sherlock was gone, forever, and quite frankly didn't know what to do with himself. He used to get annoyed at the fact that John was always worried about Sherlock but now he ached to worry about whether or not Sherlock had eaten or drank today. The cab stopped suddenly at the restaurant and the driver barked that they had arrived. John handed the man a few pounds and headed toward the door of the restaurant. 

Despite the complete darkness outside, inside the restaurant was bright and vibrant. "Can I get you a table, sir?" John turned his head towards a short woman who'd asked him a question. "Uh er no, I'm meeting someone here. Mary Morstan?" The woman clicked her tongue and nodded. "Right this way." She lead him over to a table in the back. Mary was sitting, facing the window. When she caught his eye Mary smiled and it practically made the room as bright as day. 

"That was fast." Mary said when he came close to the table. "You must have been dying to see me!" John laughed and removed his coat, placing it on his chair. "Maybe I was." Mary now laughed. 

Their waiter showed up as soon as John sat down. John quickly gazed over the menu before ordering, Mary doing the same. "Wine?" "Yes, please." The waiter filled both of their cups with red wine. Mary took a sip of her wine and eyed him. "So tell me, what's wrong?" John quickly became aware of the fact that he had been spacing off. "Hm? Oh nothing. How are you?" Mary's face showed signs of confusion. "Good, you?" "Good good good. I'm doing fine as well, a bit tired." Mary nodded. 

"John? There's a reason I asked you to dinner tonight." John cocked his eyebrow in confusion. "What is it?" Mary sat up straight and put on her 'this is very important"' face. "I was wondering if you would like to come live with me. Now before you decline hear me out. I know how hard Sherlock's death has been on you and I know that being alone at Baker Street all the time isn't helping. Baker Street will always be your home but I want to help you so for now, I was hoping you'd stay with me." John was shocked. He couldn't just leave the apartment behind with all of Sherlock's things and Mrs. Hudson, but if it was only until he felt better.... "Yes. I would be happy to live with you." Mary beamed and grabbed his hand. "I'm so glad you accepted."

Dinner was amazing. Mary filled any awkward silence with her sweet humor and lovely smiles, more than John could even do. The world felt warmer as he left the restaurant arm and arm with Mary. During the cab ride Mary rested her head on John's shoulder as she slowly started to drift off..

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

The last few weeks had been busy as John moved out of 221b. Mrs. Hudson had begged him to stay, insisting that Sherlock was Sherlock and he'd return but it had been 4 months since he.....died. There was no way he was alive, but John had started to feel some hesitation. _What if Sherlock is alive?"_ But reassured Mrs. Hudson that this was good for him and that he would visit. He only moved his stuff out, he left all of Sherlock's things unmoved since it felt just so _wrong_ to move them. The thing he did take with him was a few pictures of Sherlock and him. John had cleaned the place one last time and chuckled quietly to himself when he found a pack of cigarettes hidden in a board in the closet. Oh and he kept Sherlock's coat too. 

After a few long days he was fully moved into Mary's house. It was a homey place with light blue wallpaper and several paintings littered the walls. It had been nice to have someone to wake up next to when he had a nightmare or just to wake up to in general. John had always been that kind of a person that never did to well alone. Even if someone was in the room with him, it was still better than being alone for days on end. Mary had really helped him feel a bit better but nothing would ever replace the hole in his heart where his best friend had resided. 

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

It was a nice warm day with a cool breeze. The perfect day for a walk.....to the cemetery. John wanted to- no _needed_ to visit Sherlock."Mary?" John called out to her where she was in the kitchen. "Yes?" She called back. "I would like to go visit Sherlock's grave today." John swallowed hard at the words Sherlock's grave but he pushed through the sentence. "It's a lovely day today. So it'll be good exercise too." Mary walked out to the dining room and patted John's shoulder. "If that's what you want," She turned John so he would look at her. "I would love to." Mary said before placing a kiss on his lips.

The walk there was surprisingly calm considering where John and Mary were going. The gates to the cemetery black and cold to the touch as John pushed them open. Sherlock's grave was close to a pond that had a family of ducks swimming in it. On his grave were a bouquet of bright red roses with a little card that said Molly in cursive. Even if she was leaving flowers on a dead man's grave, Molly always left her name on a card somewhere. John couldn't help but wonder how many times she'd visited Sherlock's grave. Almost every time John came there was a bouquet of roses laying there with a card that said Molly on it. Sometimes it looked as if she'd written something inside the card. _Perhaps it's her way of coming to terms with everything. After all, she didn't speak at the funeral. Just cried the whole time and mumbled something to Sherlock's body_

John almost started crying as he placed Mary's and his flowers down beside Molly's. It pained him greatly to know that his _best friend's body_ was lying in a casket underneath the dirt and grass. Mary squeezed his hand as John choked out. "Why must you be dead?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love Mary a lot so expect her helping hand around a lot (It's Johnlock I swear) Thank you for the kudos :"D I didn't expect this to get attention that quickly or at all. Btw Molly doesn't know that Sherlock is alive. Yes they used a fake body but they stole it from Molly and didn't tell her. Chapter name is from Boats & Birds by Gregory and the Hawk. ~Minty


End file.
